Important note for non-gaming folks: They just fired the development team at 3DRealms because they've been taking 12 years to create this game.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
More Cool Dreams
I just woke up a little while ago, and I had a really cool dream/dreams. I was trapped in a Mall for some reason, with lots of other people. It had sort of a Mad Max feel to it, but more modern with all the electricity still working, but there was still a gang/thug feel to it. I was constantly on the move, trying to get *somewhere* cutting across courtyards, getting into fights, etc. Then I think the dream changed gears or switched, because I was outside, in the rain, so I took off my leather biker jacket and found a large, black trench coat with a hood. I put on the hood and started walking in the rain with it, but the coat was dragging behind me and was getting wet and heavy. Then somehow I came upon a Darth Vader mask, and I put it on under the hood, and then instantly I was Darth Vader with force powers and all.
I then proceeded to go through the mall, still trying to find my way to *somewhere* and eventually I accumulated followers. They weren't storm troopers, but they were the Empire officers with the british accents. The coolest part of the dream was when I came across a guy I really don't like much in real life, and used the dark side to choke him to death. I really wish I had said something dramatic like "I find your lack of faith disturbing" but I'm pretty sure I just called him a dick and flung his lifeless corpse against a wall.
This is the point where I think I started to wake up because I started to actively patrol around the place for other people I didn't like because I was going to force-lightning their asses into little piles of dust. I don't remember if I actually found anyone else before I woke up, but I have a nice idea of what it would have looked like had I found them.
I'm a little disappointed there was no lightsaber action, but I think this was more of a dream about dominance over my enemies rather than persevering through their bullshit. It may not have been the Jedi way, but damn, the dark side felt goooood. I remember hearing someplace that they discovered an evolutionary or perhaps a biological basis for the sensation of satisfaction given when one gets revenge. I agree that it feels good. But I also remember hearing someplace that the feeling of romantic love is equivalent to eating large quantities of chocolate. So who knows what's true? But I can personally attest that the dark side is seductive and that I wouldn't mind having the power to psychically choke a few assholes to death.
I then proceeded to go through the mall, still trying to find my way to *somewhere* and eventually I accumulated followers. They weren't storm troopers, but they were the Empire officers with the british accents. The coolest part of the dream was when I came across a guy I really don't like much in real life, and used the dark side to choke him to death. I really wish I had said something dramatic like "I find your lack of faith disturbing" but I'm pretty sure I just called him a dick and flung his lifeless corpse against a wall.
This is the point where I think I started to wake up because I started to actively patrol around the place for other people I didn't like because I was going to force-lightning their asses into little piles of dust. I don't remember if I actually found anyone else before I woke up, but I have a nice idea of what it would have looked like had I found them.
I'm a little disappointed there was no lightsaber action, but I think this was more of a dream about dominance over my enemies rather than persevering through their bullshit. It may not have been the Jedi way, but damn, the dark side felt goooood. I remember hearing someplace that they discovered an evolutionary or perhaps a biological basis for the sensation of satisfaction given when one gets revenge. I agree that it feels good. But I also remember hearing someplace that the feeling of romantic love is equivalent to eating large quantities of chocolate. So who knows what's true? But I can personally attest that the dark side is seductive and that I wouldn't mind having the power to psychically choke a few assholes to death.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
In your DREAMS
As of late, I've been having lots of dreams. Good dreams! It's weird. Most likely, the dramatic increase is at least in part due to the fact that I've been sleeping more. Well, "more" speaking relatively. I don't sleep much as it is, as demonstrated by my late late night posts such as this one. But when I do sleep, I've been dreaming.
I wish I had a coherent memory of all of them, but just scattered bits. I remember one where I had another kitten along with Sabrina named Vulcan. No surprise with the name because I just saw the new Star Trek movie (which was bad-ass). Vulcan was cool because Sabrina got along with him very well, and Vulcan would actually FETCH me things I want. Not things I throw, but things I want. It was cool.
I've had several other good dreams featuring friends of mine, and while *most* of the details are still foggy, I have flashes of moments where I was unspeakably happy where I was hanging out with that person or those people. And I won't lie, there were at least two moments where I was enjoying the company of a lady friend who shall remain anonymous. But I must say, it was nice. Not like hot and sweaty nice, but very comfortable, like the sort of connection I've always wanted with a woman.
But even in my dreams, I won't kiss and tell. That's private.
I'm surprised I haven't been having nightmares. I just played and beat bioshock this past weekend. It was fairly terrifying. Those little girls were creepy as hell. But it was fun, in a morbid psychological thriller action first person shooter.
My pal Iris has informed me that because I brought over my dear sweet little Princess when I was watching her boys, they've taken up marking their territory anywhere they catch a wiff of her. They've been pissing all over her livingroom. I feel bad, but that's also kinda funny. My little girl may not give off the nicest of vibes. Maybe she'd get along with other black cats. Or maybe I'm just overly optimistic, as always.
She's asleep on my chest again. That's her favorite spot. her little paw is outstretched like she wants to hit the spacebar for me. I'm glad she's happy here in the new house. I was always worried that she'd be unhappy when I have to leave her here alone, but she seems Ok when I come home. Which reminds me, the little Princess is almost out of food. Sounds like it's time for another trip to the pet store. I wonder if I can fit the food in my saddle bag?
IN OTHER GREAT NEWS, I finally finally F I N A L L Y got my motorcycle back from the shop. They had it for-friggin-ever! And the bill was not kind, but it was mainly the cost of parts, not labor. Needed a new gas tank valve, new coolant line, new rear tire, and new front brake pads. Now it's back, and I'm back in uniform. Well, black leather, kevlar armor, and carbon fiber leg guards. My Darth Vader get-up. But that is my uniform. And I'm pleased as peaches.
The weather is beautiful, and it feels VERY good to be riding again. Not looking forward to the typical, blistering-hot Georgia summer, but I'm prepared to shove an icepack inside my jacket to keep me from overheating on those 90-plus-degree days.
The summer is off to a precarious start that I wish I could explain. A friend of mine who I've made a point of being nothing but nice to spilled a drink on me. After a very snide apology, I asked her if she really was sorry, to which she responded "No! I'm not sorry!" in the absolute bitchiest tone I've ever heard her direct at me. It wasn't half a shot of vodka spilled on me. It was a glass of beer all up and down my left side. Sure, it was an accident, but only an accident in the sense that she was trying to elbow me in the ribs (hard) and hit my drink instead. Suffice it to say, I was insulted and ever ounce of dignity was running down my leg like so much BEER from my glass.
The kicker was that I turned down a chance to go to another bar to watch the midnight showing of the original theatrical release of Star Wars. I made this huge public gesture of friendship by saying that it was everyone's last night out together before the fall and that I can't leave my friends. Then I get my drink spilled all over me by my "friend" who was drunk, hyper, and so incredibly rude that she couldn't feel legitimately sorry for something that was clearly her fault. Cuz the good lord KNOWS I love to be at a bar drenched in beer, like a drunken idiot. I didn't want another beer or even a change of shirt or pants: I just wanted a goddamn sincere apology. Instead, I got up, paid my tab, and left without saying a word.
That was a bad way to start the summer. Very bad. My friend Iris has her own theories on what happened and why, but she had already left before my rude friend started flailing her arms around like a crazy person, punching people at random. She punched me in my throat earlier in the evening, but I let that one slide. For someone who practically begged me to be a nice person towards her, she really doesn't get that's a two-way street. Nobody should ever mistake my kindness for weakness because I don't tolerate disrepsect.
At least I had the chance to do a good deed before the beer-spill occurred. The flaming asshole of an ex-boyfriend of a dear friend of mine showed up at the bar... ...escorting everyone's favorite bartender to the threshold of 283. When he saw me, he took off, and with good reason. Ya see, his line of bullshit is pretty simple to explain: he's the reformed bad guy. He was addicted to heroine, bad experiences, blah blah blah. So when he meets a woman, he dumps all of his rotten life on her, tells her that he's turning a corner, and she falls for it hook-line-and-sinker. My dear-sweet friend fell for it. And so did! When he started dating her, I thought he was perfect for her. They eventually moved in and lived together for almost a solid year... ...before he started cheating on her. Sadly, he wasn't exactly James Bond about it. He left his email client open on his computer, so when she sat down to print a school paper, she found all their naughty little correspondences.
She was betrayed and devestated and it absolutely killed me. Because if you know this special dear friend of mine, you couldn't FATHOM anyone hurting her. If that wasn't bad enough, after she moved out and started couch surfing to find a new place to live, he wouldn't leave her alone. He did everything he could to torture her emotionally. He'd call her up and tell her to go buy him TOILET PAPER because he was out. And he was once downtown with his NEW SLUT, spots my friend, and decides to invite himself AND THE SLUT to join her. No shit. Who in their right mind does that? Who thinks it is OK to do that????
My friend had to make me promise I'd never hunt him down and break every bone in his body. That doesn't mean I'll let him carry around town like he did nothing wrong. And I'm certainly not going to sit by apathetically and let him do it to someone else. I was up in the air about whether or not I should go say something to the bartender, Rachel, until I had a conversation with a new buddy named Matt who frequents 283. He said she's been a part of that place for years and years, and that he didn't want to see her get hurt by some DICK in sheep's clothing.
So Matt and I went inside, ordered another couple of drinks, and spoke to Rachel. I left out a lot of the nasty details because I didn't want to start shouting. Matt laid the groundwork for what I had to say and I laid it out on the table for her. She seemed not too upset, and according to her she'd only been seeing him for a few weeks, but Matt said she was hiding it fairly well.
The good news is that she confronted him about it that night, probably after I had beer spilled all over me. The HILARIOUS news is that the dickless son of a bitch actually sent me an IM telling me to mind my own business. I didn't miss a beat: I told him I'll discuss this with him in person anytime he wants to. That chilled him out pretty quickly. I wish I still had the conversation to cut and paste here, so I can preserve it for posterity. "See kids? This is how a coward flounders when he's shitting his pants!" To be pefectly frank, I'd LOVE IT if he wasn't such a pussy. Cuz if he took a swing at me, I'd rellish the chance to beat the living shit out of him.
Oh if only. But he's only got the half-testicle necessary to take out his frustrations on women. So I left him with a warning (without directly threatening him) that he better not take out his anger on my friend, lest I "make the time" to come see him to "discuss" it with him. And he for damn sure better stay away from her or else. The most hilarious part was how he ended it. He's got such a self-endulged romantic image of himself that he said he owes lots of people "time and apologies" and I'm not one of them. Like I ever asked him for an apology! I told him to kiss my ass and to leave my friend alone. Nothing in there about an apology.
These stream-of-consciousness entries are so bizarre. I talked about dreams, cats, friends, school, motorcycles, and a real bastard. It's been a while since I put in an update. I guess I just had a lot I wanted to get down. OH WELL!
I wish I had a coherent memory of all of them, but just scattered bits. I remember one where I had another kitten along with Sabrina named Vulcan. No surprise with the name because I just saw the new Star Trek movie (which was bad-ass). Vulcan was cool because Sabrina got along with him very well, and Vulcan would actually FETCH me things I want. Not things I throw, but things I want. It was cool.
I've had several other good dreams featuring friends of mine, and while *most* of the details are still foggy, I have flashes of moments where I was unspeakably happy where I was hanging out with that person or those people. And I won't lie, there were at least two moments where I was enjoying the company of a lady friend who shall remain anonymous. But I must say, it was nice. Not like hot and sweaty nice, but very comfortable, like the sort of connection I've always wanted with a woman.
But even in my dreams, I won't kiss and tell. That's private.
I'm surprised I haven't been having nightmares. I just played and beat bioshock this past weekend. It was fairly terrifying. Those little girls were creepy as hell. But it was fun, in a morbid psychological thriller action first person shooter.
My pal Iris has informed me that because I brought over my dear sweet little Princess when I was watching her boys, they've taken up marking their territory anywhere they catch a wiff of her. They've been pissing all over her livingroom. I feel bad, but that's also kinda funny. My little girl may not give off the nicest of vibes. Maybe she'd get along with other black cats. Or maybe I'm just overly optimistic, as always.
She's asleep on my chest again. That's her favorite spot. her little paw is outstretched like she wants to hit the spacebar for me. I'm glad she's happy here in the new house. I was always worried that she'd be unhappy when I have to leave her here alone, but she seems Ok when I come home. Which reminds me, the little Princess is almost out of food. Sounds like it's time for another trip to the pet store. I wonder if I can fit the food in my saddle bag?
IN OTHER GREAT NEWS, I finally finally F I N A L L Y got my motorcycle back from the shop. They had it for-friggin-ever! And the bill was not kind, but it was mainly the cost of parts, not labor. Needed a new gas tank valve, new coolant line, new rear tire, and new front brake pads. Now it's back, and I'm back in uniform. Well, black leather, kevlar armor, and carbon fiber leg guards. My Darth Vader get-up. But that is my uniform. And I'm pleased as peaches.
The weather is beautiful, and it feels VERY good to be riding again. Not looking forward to the typical, blistering-hot Georgia summer, but I'm prepared to shove an icepack inside my jacket to keep me from overheating on those 90-plus-degree days.
The summer is off to a precarious start that I wish I could explain. A friend of mine who I've made a point of being nothing but nice to spilled a drink on me. After a very snide apology, I asked her if she really was sorry, to which she responded "No! I'm not sorry!" in the absolute bitchiest tone I've ever heard her direct at me. It wasn't half a shot of vodka spilled on me. It was a glass of beer all up and down my left side. Sure, it was an accident, but only an accident in the sense that she was trying to elbow me in the ribs (hard) and hit my drink instead. Suffice it to say, I was insulted and ever ounce of dignity was running down my leg like so much BEER from my glass.
The kicker was that I turned down a chance to go to another bar to watch the midnight showing of the original theatrical release of Star Wars. I made this huge public gesture of friendship by saying that it was everyone's last night out together before the fall and that I can't leave my friends. Then I get my drink spilled all over me by my "friend" who was drunk, hyper, and so incredibly rude that she couldn't feel legitimately sorry for something that was clearly her fault. Cuz the good lord KNOWS I love to be at a bar drenched in beer, like a drunken idiot. I didn't want another beer or even a change of shirt or pants: I just wanted a goddamn sincere apology. Instead, I got up, paid my tab, and left without saying a word.
That was a bad way to start the summer. Very bad. My friend Iris has her own theories on what happened and why, but she had already left before my rude friend started flailing her arms around like a crazy person, punching people at random. She punched me in my throat earlier in the evening, but I let that one slide. For someone who practically begged me to be a nice person towards her, she really doesn't get that's a two-way street. Nobody should ever mistake my kindness for weakness because I don't tolerate disrepsect.
At least I had the chance to do a good deed before the beer-spill occurred. The flaming asshole of an ex-boyfriend of a dear friend of mine showed up at the bar... ...escorting everyone's favorite bartender to the threshold of 283. When he saw me, he took off, and with good reason. Ya see, his line of bullshit is pretty simple to explain: he's the reformed bad guy. He was addicted to heroine, bad experiences, blah blah blah. So when he meets a woman, he dumps all of his rotten life on her, tells her that he's turning a corner, and she falls for it hook-line-and-sinker. My dear-sweet friend fell for it. And so did! When he started dating her, I thought he was perfect for her. They eventually moved in and lived together for almost a solid year... ...before he started cheating on her. Sadly, he wasn't exactly James Bond about it. He left his email client open on his computer, so when she sat down to print a school paper, she found all their naughty little correspondences.
She was betrayed and devestated and it absolutely killed me. Because if you know this special dear friend of mine, you couldn't FATHOM anyone hurting her. If that wasn't bad enough, after she moved out and started couch surfing to find a new place to live, he wouldn't leave her alone. He did everything he could to torture her emotionally. He'd call her up and tell her to go buy him TOILET PAPER because he was out. And he was once downtown with his NEW SLUT, spots my friend, and decides to invite himself AND THE SLUT to join her. No shit. Who in their right mind does that? Who thinks it is OK to do that????
My friend had to make me promise I'd never hunt him down and break every bone in his body. That doesn't mean I'll let him carry around town like he did nothing wrong. And I'm certainly not going to sit by apathetically and let him do it to someone else. I was up in the air about whether or not I should go say something to the bartender, Rachel, until I had a conversation with a new buddy named Matt who frequents 283. He said she's been a part of that place for years and years, and that he didn't want to see her get hurt by some DICK in sheep's clothing.
So Matt and I went inside, ordered another couple of drinks, and spoke to Rachel. I left out a lot of the nasty details because I didn't want to start shouting. Matt laid the groundwork for what I had to say and I laid it out on the table for her. She seemed not too upset, and according to her she'd only been seeing him for a few weeks, but Matt said she was hiding it fairly well.
The good news is that she confronted him about it that night, probably after I had beer spilled all over me. The HILARIOUS news is that the dickless son of a bitch actually sent me an IM telling me to mind my own business. I didn't miss a beat: I told him I'll discuss this with him in person anytime he wants to. That chilled him out pretty quickly. I wish I still had the conversation to cut and paste here, so I can preserve it for posterity. "See kids? This is how a coward flounders when he's shitting his pants!" To be pefectly frank, I'd LOVE IT if he wasn't such a pussy. Cuz if he took a swing at me, I'd rellish the chance to beat the living shit out of him.
Oh if only. But he's only got the half-testicle necessary to take out his frustrations on women. So I left him with a warning (without directly threatening him) that he better not take out his anger on my friend, lest I "make the time" to come see him to "discuss" it with him. And he for damn sure better stay away from her or else. The most hilarious part was how he ended it. He's got such a self-endulged romantic image of himself that he said he owes lots of people "time and apologies" and I'm not one of them. Like I ever asked him for an apology! I told him to kiss my ass and to leave my friend alone. Nothing in there about an apology.
These stream-of-consciousness entries are so bizarre. I talked about dreams, cats, friends, school, motorcycles, and a real bastard. It's been a while since I put in an update. I guess I just had a lot I wanted to get down. OH WELL!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
How can I eat cookies when Historical Linguistics ESCAPES ME???
As is my fate, I am awake working. I miss the days when I'd be awake watching movies. But I've resolved myself to work towards a goal. Passing. Ha!
The problem is that historical linguistics seems to be a collection of pseudo-interesting facts about the progression of language ALL OVER the friggin planet as best scholars can reason from any and all texts they can get their hands on spanning the last two thousand years. As is with anything that is interesting to hear about, but ultimately NOT my field of research, the small details like what happened to a small set of Finnish verbs 400 years ago, I'M NOT GOING TO REMEMBER THEM.
I've been laboring on condensing all of my lecture notes into a study guide that is ALMOST finished. I keep combing over my notes finding things that I *might* be tested on (which means I indeed WILL be tested on it) and thus adding it into the guide. Dr. Klein is a very nice man. I like him. But he is old-old school, which means he's not against giving a five hour exam covering everything he ever said... ...and putting notes up online is a hell-worthy trespass.
The kicker is that I have three finals within the same 30-hour time span, but Historical is the only one I can think about.
What gets me is that when I'm sitting on my porch swing enjoying the cool night breeze, I can think of all kinds of really cool ideas of things I'd love to build. I thought of a system to ontologically perceive and represent objects. I thought of a way to use a camera and three lazer pointers to make a robot create 3D maps of its environment. I thought out how to go about writing a probram that will take a sample of speech representative of a person's pronunciation of all phonemes, transitions from consonants to vowels and vice versa, and be able to recognize and perhaps synthesize their speech (minus tone). I dream about how to make an autonomous motocycle to compete in the DARPA challenge. I certainly couldn't give two shits about diachronic sound change that took place between the 1300s and 1400s when there WERE NO TAPE RECORDERS.
I care about to-date study of language variations of the english language by region! THAT is relevent to natural language perception and understanding. We won't very well get a robot to pass the Turing Test if the damn thing is constantly asking people from Boston to speak more clearly. That's why I dig accoustic phonetics and sociolinguistics. That's why I care about neuro-symbolic systems representing fuzzy syntax rules!
Quite frankly, I'm more fascinated by trying to figure out what sort of accent Wacko Warner had. He sounds like an Australian John Lenon had a child with a South African Nicole Kidman.
This only comes to mind because my Animaniacs download finished the other day, and I watched the first couple episodes.
At the very least, I'm getting my bike back tomorrow. New rear tire, new front break pads, repared coolant line, and a HOPEFULLY patched fuel leak. Three weeks ago, I would have been detonated had someone flicked a cigarette at me. I truly love my motorcycle, but it seems like it's always got something wrong with it. So I've resolved to get myself a new bike if I get into a really good school. A little graduation present to myself.
If I go Ivey League, I'll definitely go with the Harley Davidson VRSC Night Rod. And yes, I know how fallic that sounds, but the bike is so pretty. So that's something to work towards. Pricey, yes. But it's certainly not the motorcycle of a Dentist-wannabe-biker. I wouldn't go Harley to act like an extra in Wild Hogs. The engine was built in a joint effort by HD and BMW. And it's got some power to it. Vroom. If the economy bounces back and my investment has a good swelling over the next year or so, then I won't sweat the price.
I'm still nervous about PhD applications. I have to double-check to make sure the classes I need to graduate are going to be OFFERED in the next year. I'd hate to go through the motions of applying, interviews, rejection, and acceptance to have to defer my admission by a year.
The prospect of packing up and leaving Athens is both exciting and frightening. I saw leaving Gainesville and coming to Athens as a wonderful clean slate, and I was sure I'd do it RIGHT this time around. And it seems while I was resolved to only associate socially with folks in my own department, everything was balloons and happy faces. Only when I branched out did things go awry. Not fully. A solid 90% of the people I've met here have been cool. But that other 10% have been a bunch of miserable individuals I'll be glad to be rid of.
First rule: no roommates this time around. I've had some really good roommates, a couple in particular were excellent. But the others, historically, have been a pain in the ass and more trouble than they're worth. I'll do what I just did. I'll find a small house out of the way and only worry about the commute.
Second rule: beware of women... ...in general. I just revised that last sentence eight times. Beware women who LIE. Beware women who cheat. Beware women who collect ex-boyfriends. Beware women with daddy issues. Beware women who clearly suffer mental illness. Beware women who don't communicate. Beware women with no intellectual pursuits of ANY kind. Beware women who are too happy. Beware women who are too sad. Beware women who are spoiled. Beware women who treat men like a change of socks. Beware women who... ah hell. JUST BEWARE.
Third rule: establish a routine early, and stick to it. Examine all deviations as an afront to my work, my school, my health, and my sanity before breaking the routine. With a routine, things never get out of control. Things might get tight. Things might get stressful. But things will never get out of control.
Fourth rule: keep in touch with old friends, but deliberately lose touch with the ones who cause too much grief. Allow for new friends by granting a baseline of unconditional respect, but real trust is something that must be earned, not assumed or dictated. Be cautious of people who declare themselves both honest and trustworthy. Such a person will, undoubtedly, lie to and betray me. Be open to the concept of second chances, but don't shell them out like a handful of skittles from a gumball machine. Issue second chances like a socialist: only one per person.
Fifth rule: It's my PhD. Never volunteer. Time will be precious. Be more selfish than ever. Just because I can do someone a favor doesn't mean I have to do them a favor. Work very hard, and allow every other Saturday as a personal day to do nothing but fun stuff. Movie marathons, the firing range, long motorcycle rides, pleasure reading, experimental cooking, small gatherings of friends for hookah and games. The other 13 days are for school and work, so I must use them wisely.
I think those are pretty good standard operating procedures. If I can follow them, I think I can be happy and still succeed at school and work. I just gotta make sure I set it up properly the first time around. Shop around thoroughly for a place to live and work out a budget that I can stick to. Like I said, it's my PhD. It's the last leg of my education. No more screwing around. No more MOVING every year. No more drama from "friends" and girlfriends.
Anything that messes with my life will be met with cold, merciless, precise action.
The problem is that historical linguistics seems to be a collection of pseudo-interesting facts about the progression of language ALL OVER the friggin planet as best scholars can reason from any and all texts they can get their hands on spanning the last two thousand years. As is with anything that is interesting to hear about, but ultimately NOT my field of research, the small details like what happened to a small set of Finnish verbs 400 years ago, I'M NOT GOING TO REMEMBER THEM.
I've been laboring on condensing all of my lecture notes into a study guide that is ALMOST finished. I keep combing over my notes finding things that I *might* be tested on (which means I indeed WILL be tested on it) and thus adding it into the guide. Dr. Klein is a very nice man. I like him. But he is old-old school, which means he's not against giving a five hour exam covering everything he ever said... ...and putting notes up online is a hell-worthy trespass.
The kicker is that I have three finals within the same 30-hour time span, but Historical is the only one I can think about.
What gets me is that when I'm sitting on my porch swing enjoying the cool night breeze, I can think of all kinds of really cool ideas of things I'd love to build. I thought of a system to ontologically perceive and represent objects. I thought of a way to use a camera and three lazer pointers to make a robot create 3D maps of its environment. I thought out how to go about writing a probram that will take a sample of speech representative of a person's pronunciation of all phonemes, transitions from consonants to vowels and vice versa, and be able to recognize and perhaps synthesize their speech (minus tone). I dream about how to make an autonomous motocycle to compete in the DARPA challenge. I certainly couldn't give two shits about diachronic sound change that took place between the 1300s and 1400s when there WERE NO TAPE RECORDERS.
I care about to-date study of language variations of the english language by region! THAT is relevent to natural language perception and understanding. We won't very well get a robot to pass the Turing Test if the damn thing is constantly asking people from Boston to speak more clearly. That's why I dig accoustic phonetics and sociolinguistics. That's why I care about neuro-symbolic systems representing fuzzy syntax rules!
Quite frankly, I'm more fascinated by trying to figure out what sort of accent Wacko Warner had. He sounds like an Australian John Lenon had a child with a South African Nicole Kidman.
This only comes to mind because my Animaniacs download finished the other day, and I watched the first couple episodes.
At the very least, I'm getting my bike back tomorrow. New rear tire, new front break pads, repared coolant line, and a HOPEFULLY patched fuel leak. Three weeks ago, I would have been detonated had someone flicked a cigarette at me. I truly love my motorcycle, but it seems like it's always got something wrong with it. So I've resolved to get myself a new bike if I get into a really good school. A little graduation present to myself.
If I go Ivey League, I'll definitely go with the Harley Davidson VRSC Night Rod. And yes, I know how fallic that sounds, but the bike is so pretty. So that's something to work towards. Pricey, yes. But it's certainly not the motorcycle of a Dentist-wannabe-biker. I wouldn't go Harley to act like an extra in Wild Hogs. The engine was built in a joint effort by HD and BMW. And it's got some power to it. Vroom. If the economy bounces back and my investment has a good swelling over the next year or so, then I won't sweat the price.
I'm still nervous about PhD applications. I have to double-check to make sure the classes I need to graduate are going to be OFFERED in the next year. I'd hate to go through the motions of applying, interviews, rejection, and acceptance to have to defer my admission by a year.
The prospect of packing up and leaving Athens is both exciting and frightening. I saw leaving Gainesville and coming to Athens as a wonderful clean slate, and I was sure I'd do it RIGHT this time around. And it seems while I was resolved to only associate socially with folks in my own department, everything was balloons and happy faces. Only when I branched out did things go awry. Not fully. A solid 90% of the people I've met here have been cool. But that other 10% have been a bunch of miserable individuals I'll be glad to be rid of.
First rule: no roommates this time around. I've had some really good roommates, a couple in particular were excellent. But the others, historically, have been a pain in the ass and more trouble than they're worth. I'll do what I just did. I'll find a small house out of the way and only worry about the commute.
Second rule: beware of women... ...in general. I just revised that last sentence eight times. Beware women who LIE. Beware women who cheat. Beware women who collect ex-boyfriends. Beware women with daddy issues. Beware women who clearly suffer mental illness. Beware women who don't communicate. Beware women with no intellectual pursuits of ANY kind. Beware women who are too happy. Beware women who are too sad. Beware women who are spoiled. Beware women who treat men like a change of socks. Beware women who... ah hell. JUST BEWARE.
Third rule: establish a routine early, and stick to it. Examine all deviations as an afront to my work, my school, my health, and my sanity before breaking the routine. With a routine, things never get out of control. Things might get tight. Things might get stressful. But things will never get out of control.
Fourth rule: keep in touch with old friends, but deliberately lose touch with the ones who cause too much grief. Allow for new friends by granting a baseline of unconditional respect, but real trust is something that must be earned, not assumed or dictated. Be cautious of people who declare themselves both honest and trustworthy. Such a person will, undoubtedly, lie to and betray me. Be open to the concept of second chances, but don't shell them out like a handful of skittles from a gumball machine. Issue second chances like a socialist: only one per person.
Fifth rule: It's my PhD. Never volunteer. Time will be precious. Be more selfish than ever. Just because I can do someone a favor doesn't mean I have to do them a favor. Work very hard, and allow every other Saturday as a personal day to do nothing but fun stuff. Movie marathons, the firing range, long motorcycle rides, pleasure reading, experimental cooking, small gatherings of friends for hookah and games. The other 13 days are for school and work, so I must use them wisely.
I think those are pretty good standard operating procedures. If I can follow them, I think I can be happy and still succeed at school and work. I just gotta make sure I set it up properly the first time around. Shop around thoroughly for a place to live and work out a budget that I can stick to. Like I said, it's my PhD. It's the last leg of my education. No more screwing around. No more MOVING every year. No more drama from "friends" and girlfriends.
Anything that messes with my life will be met with cold, merciless, precise action.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Cider is just applejuice flavored beer
I had a double-sized black russian on the rocks with an empty stomach (count those prepositions) and I'm hammered. Geez.
It saddens me that my darling little kitten is not the most "social" of animals. I took her over to Iris's place tonight and she would have killed either of the cats there had they gotten within five feet of her. She hid behind the couch hissing like it was her JOB. She eventually relaxed enough to sit with me on the couch as I read one of Iris's many many sex books, but she wasn't having anything of the other two kitty-katz there.
She was hostile.
I wish she was more social, but it may just take some getting used to. I spoil her rotten and lavish her with attention; human attention. Other cats, obviously, freak her out. Sad day.
I say X-Men this afternoon, and I must say that it was one silly good movie. Well cast, good acting, but a much more shallow plot and the action scenes didn't give me any goosebumps, but it was still entertaining. It isn't any fault of the actors or producers. We can watch Heroes on Monday nights to see super powers in affect: we need not shell out $8 for a movie ticket to see it... ...with less character development. If they give the Cheerleader adamantium claws, Marvel Comics might as well pack it in.
Did I mention that I had one drink on an empty stomach? I'm buzzed like crazy.
I'm sure that not eating or sleeping well this week has a lot to do with it.
I'd like to share with the void my fan-state of a phenomenon called "Riff Trax" where you buy an mp3 you play along with a movie.... ...the mp3 is a few really funny guys mocking the movie you're watching. I'm currently riffing Pirates of the Carribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl and I'm trying to not pee as I laugh so hard.
If I was smart, I'd throw a Riff Trax party, because I've got the riff mp3's for roughly 10 movies. They're hilarious.
As mentioned above, I was left reading sex books in Iris's house while my little kitten Sabrina threatened boys. It brought to sharp relief that I'd like another girlfriend. It wasn't a self-help book or a volume for over the hill who need to make up for the shortcomings of their 20s. It was informitive. It talked about the emotional aspects. I'd like to think about such topics as MORE THAN an mere hypothetical.
So here's a few requests to the universe:
1. Teach my cat how to be nice to other cats.
2. Let me lose 10 lbs.... tee hee hee
3. Send me a woman I can talk to... ...and do OTHER stuff with as well. tee hee hee
It saddens me that my darling little kitten is not the most "social" of animals. I took her over to Iris's place tonight and she would have killed either of the cats there had they gotten within five feet of her. She hid behind the couch hissing like it was her JOB. She eventually relaxed enough to sit with me on the couch as I read one of Iris's many many sex books, but she wasn't having anything of the other two kitty-katz there.
She was hostile.
I wish she was more social, but it may just take some getting used to. I spoil her rotten and lavish her with attention; human attention. Other cats, obviously, freak her out. Sad day.
I say X-Men this afternoon, and I must say that it was one silly good movie. Well cast, good acting, but a much more shallow plot and the action scenes didn't give me any goosebumps, but it was still entertaining. It isn't any fault of the actors or producers. We can watch Heroes on Monday nights to see super powers in affect: we need not shell out $8 for a movie ticket to see it... ...with less character development. If they give the Cheerleader adamantium claws, Marvel Comics might as well pack it in.
Did I mention that I had one drink on an empty stomach? I'm buzzed like crazy.
I'm sure that not eating or sleeping well this week has a lot to do with it.
I'd like to share with the void my fan-state of a phenomenon called "Riff Trax" where you buy an mp3 you play along with a movie.... ...the mp3 is a few really funny guys mocking the movie you're watching. I'm currently riffing Pirates of the Carribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl and I'm trying to not pee as I laugh so hard.
If I was smart, I'd throw a Riff Trax party, because I've got the riff mp3's for roughly 10 movies. They're hilarious.
As mentioned above, I was left reading sex books in Iris's house while my little kitten Sabrina threatened boys. It brought to sharp relief that I'd like another girlfriend. It wasn't a self-help book or a volume for over the hill who need to make up for the shortcomings of their 20s. It was informitive. It talked about the emotional aspects. I'd like to think about such topics as MORE THAN an mere hypothetical.
So here's a few requests to the universe:
1. Teach my cat how to be nice to other cats.
2. Let me lose 10 lbs.... tee hee hee
3. Send me a woman I can talk to... ...and do OTHER stuff with as well. tee hee hee
Friday, May 1, 2009
Just what DO you do with a drunken sailor earl-ay in the mornin?
First off, tonight was a failure of epic proportions. I bought myself a ticket to the midnight showing of X-Men this afternoon intending to meet up with some old friends for the movie... ...and I fell asleep.
To be fair, it's been a rough few days. Phonetics project, take-home exam, Stats final, and a Historical Paper that I really didn't want to write. Now I have six free days to study and prepare for three finals on Thursday and Friday of next week. It's on like Donkey Kong.
Sleep is obviously for the weak, so my fail was that much worse. I was really looking forward to it, too.
At least Friday, Saturday, and Sunday will be good. I'm kittin-sittin for Iris and Lyndsay while they retreat into the woods for a few days. I'll get the details when they get back. They have two little cats named Daniel and Levy. I'm going to take this chance to socialize my darling little princess, Sabrina. I don't know if she'll get along with other cats. She's an only child after all, and that tends to spoil some kids.
We'll see if she gets along with them or not tomorrow night. I have a few errands to run tomorrow morning (and a friggin movie to see, damn it) and then I'm going to pack her up in her lovely little cat-bag-carrier-thingy and take her on over to Iris's place. Then I'll let her meet the boys. She's not destructive, so I'm not concerned about personal property damage, but I remember sometimes when she'd be "in a mood" and totally PWN that dog we used to live with. Cuz she's not declawed. My older sister told me how inhumane it is. I can think of more than a few people whose finger tips I'd clip off before I'd do it to an animal.
So that's how it is. That's how it's gonna be. Then the summer will arrive, and I can see if my lofty goals for exercise will actually melt the lovehandles from my waistline. The preferable state would be that I get back into the groove I once had, loose 10 bad pounds, gain 1o good pounds. That would be ideal, but I haven't fully thought through what my work schedule is going to be like for the summer.
Tomorrow morning, I'll go see a movie, pay my rent, tell my property manager that my AC is out of freon, and check on my motorcycle. Last time I called, they said "it wasn't ready yet" and I left it at that. It certainly DID need a lot of work, but they've had it for two weeks now. I want it back already. I've missed all the really mild temps and LIGHT pollen days that are ideal for riding. From here on out, it's going to be sunny, muggy, and miserable. Not to mention the fact that I hate having to drive the Tahoe to school and fight for parking.
To end on a happy note, as always, I'm constantly in awe of and impressed by my bandwidth here at the house. No joke, I think I've downloaded well over a terabyte of new shit since I moved in back in January. I have all the Star Treks. ALL OF THEM. More movies than I can count; it's gotta be over 800 since the Jackie Chan collection (57 movies) finished. And I am pretty sure I've got every cartoon series I ever watched as a child. The Smurs, The Snorks, and even SPONGEBOB will finish in a week. I'm even moving up to getting Threes Company and Saved By The Bell.
All of this is of course backed up to the six 1TB drives I keep inside my firesafe. So even if disaster strikes, I can keep these shows forever for WHENEVER I get the time to watch them. Most of them are poor quality TV-rips, but that doesn't bother me. Someday, the fancy will strike, the time will be there, and I'll be compelled to watch all the episodes of The Real Ghostbusters or Rescue Rangers and nothing will stop me. Sweet huh?
To be fair, it's been a rough few days. Phonetics project, take-home exam, Stats final, and a Historical Paper that I really didn't want to write. Now I have six free days to study and prepare for three finals on Thursday and Friday of next week. It's on like Donkey Kong.
Sleep is obviously for the weak, so my fail was that much worse. I was really looking forward to it, too.
At least Friday, Saturday, and Sunday will be good. I'm kittin-sittin for Iris and Lyndsay while they retreat into the woods for a few days. I'll get the details when they get back. They have two little cats named Daniel and Levy. I'm going to take this chance to socialize my darling little princess, Sabrina. I don't know if she'll get along with other cats. She's an only child after all, and that tends to spoil some kids.
We'll see if she gets along with them or not tomorrow night. I have a few errands to run tomorrow morning (and a friggin movie to see, damn it) and then I'm going to pack her up in her lovely little cat-bag-carrier-thingy and take her on over to Iris's place. Then I'll let her meet the boys. She's not destructive, so I'm not concerned about personal property damage, but I remember sometimes when she'd be "in a mood" and totally PWN that dog we used to live with. Cuz she's not declawed. My older sister told me how inhumane it is. I can think of more than a few people whose finger tips I'd clip off before I'd do it to an animal.
So that's how it is. That's how it's gonna be. Then the summer will arrive, and I can see if my lofty goals for exercise will actually melt the lovehandles from my waistline. The preferable state would be that I get back into the groove I once had, loose 10 bad pounds, gain 1o good pounds. That would be ideal, but I haven't fully thought through what my work schedule is going to be like for the summer.
Tomorrow morning, I'll go see a movie, pay my rent, tell my property manager that my AC is out of freon, and check on my motorcycle. Last time I called, they said "it wasn't ready yet" and I left it at that. It certainly DID need a lot of work, but they've had it for two weeks now. I want it back already. I've missed all the really mild temps and LIGHT pollen days that are ideal for riding. From here on out, it's going to be sunny, muggy, and miserable. Not to mention the fact that I hate having to drive the Tahoe to school and fight for parking.
To end on a happy note, as always, I'm constantly in awe of and impressed by my bandwidth here at the house. No joke, I think I've downloaded well over a terabyte of new shit since I moved in back in January. I have all the Star Treks. ALL OF THEM. More movies than I can count; it's gotta be over 800 since the Jackie Chan collection (57 movies) finished. And I am pretty sure I've got every cartoon series I ever watched as a child. The Smurs, The Snorks, and even SPONGEBOB will finish in a week. I'm even moving up to getting Threes Company and Saved By The Bell.
All of this is of course backed up to the six 1TB drives I keep inside my firesafe. So even if disaster strikes, I can keep these shows forever for WHENEVER I get the time to watch them. Most of them are poor quality TV-rips, but that doesn't bother me. Someday, the fancy will strike, the time will be there, and I'll be compelled to watch all the episodes of The Real Ghostbusters or Rescue Rangers and nothing will stop me. Sweet huh?
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